Cargo Shorts./Life after Confidence.
Everything is new and overwhelming.I'm a guy who likes little change. I'm simple that way. If I could live in a bubble watching the same TV program, eating Kix for breakfast, and handle tax returns for a living, I think I'd be happy.
It's a really big statement, but I have a feeling that it is totally true. But life, ever so gently, reminds us that nothing ever stays static.
After 23 long years, I have come to the discovery that I don't have to wear pants.
Consider this:
Elementary school: I wore khakis and school uniform even though the school didn't have a uniform. I didn't see the need for fashion. Back then I was a real rebel.
Middle school: I tried experimenting with jeans. Failure. Jeans were really starchy, probably because after wearing them for a day, they got dirty and ended up in the wash. Washing makes jeans hard and scratchy. I never liked jeans. I stuck with khakis and navy blue pants, the stuff my dad wears.
High school: I discovered my first pair of dark brown cargo pants. They were made of canvas material and they had huge pockets. One pocket, perfect for my Walkman CD player. The other, well sized for my wraparound headphones. I also got a wallet chain. On my way to being cool.
College: I bought my first pair of jeans at the prodding of Angela, my girlfriend at the time. She wanted me to look "normal", I gave in. Jeans are a lot less uncomfortable than I remember them to be. I started to roll up one pant sleeve to avoid getting it caught in my bicycle gears. I grew the habit of having one pant sleeve rolled up throughout the day. Some days I would wake up and put on my pants with one sleeve already pre-rolled. Angela would look at me like I was crazy. It goes without saying that we're no longer together.
(It's also important to note that I have a huge preoccupation with what people will think of my legs, stemming from an incident in elementary school where schoolkids teased me for my legs' pale complexion. This was the one and only time I wore shorts in public as a child. Much of my young adult life has seen similar fashion decisions...including the wallet chain.)
I own shorts. I just chose not to wear them. They just sat in my drawers while my jeans got lots of mileage. But this summer, I sucked it up and threw two pairs of shorts into my duffel bag. China and Vietnam were going to be really hot, and jeans were only going to take up space. Vietnamese rice patties, on the backs of motorcycles, the only thing on, in clubs, dancefloors, drinking in the street, on the Great Wall. Saying they got mileage would be an understatement. Wandering around a country with bare legs was not exactly a sea change, but this was definitely unexplored territory.
This has been a year of personal growth, understanding where my friends are, figuring out where my power lies, being confident in myself. I've loved, lost, lived, lied, then understood that it's not worth the angst to be dishonest with anyone, especially yourself. I've been holding myself at such high standards, that it's no wonder I didn't have self-confidence. There's no point in trying to be somebody. Just be.
On my first day in Vietnam, I wrote down that I knew that I would leave the trip different than when I came. Now, I wear shorts when I want to. I didn't figure it would be cold in San Francisco tonight, but it's ok. It's kinda fun to feel the goosebumps tighten up.
Feel the goosebumps tighten up, feel the choking sensation when you've realized what you've done, feel the ocean breeze and the starlight through your closed eyelids, feel the memories rush back like flood waters rising up from your knees. Take your Walkman and headphones out of your pockets. Yes. Throw them into the torrent and walk defiantly towards the source.